Poems begining by T
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The Yukon
© Joaquin Miller
THE moon resumed all heaven now,
She shepherded the stars below
Along her wide, white steeps of snow,
Nor stooped nor rested, where or how.
The Rhymes That Our Hearts Can Read
© Edwin Greenslade Murphy
The Rhymes That Our Hearts Can Read
We are sated of songs that hymn the praise
The Buried Chief
© Sir Henry Parkes
With speechless lips and solemn tread
They brought the Lawyer-Statesman home:
They laid him with the gather'd dead,
Where rich and poor like brothers come.
The Shield Of A Greeting
© David Lehman
Ashes that survive the aftermath of fire
Bury the past bravely, retaining
Only those messages that are least decipherable
And therefore most desirable
To be sung by the bright-eyed few remaining
Voices of our frankly foolish choir.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 04
© William Langland
" Cesseth!' seide the Kyng, " I suffre yow no lenger.
Ye shul saughtne, forsothe, and serve me bothe.
The Poetry Of Coleridge
© George Meredith
A brook glancing under green leaves, self-delighting, exulting,
And full of a gurgling melody ever renewed -
Renewed thro' all changes of Heaven, unceasing in sunlight,
Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed in the beams of the holier orb.
The Little Knight In Green
© Katharine Lee Bates
WHAT fragrant-footed comer
Is stepping oer my head?
The Body of Divinity Versifyed
© Cotton Mather
A God there is, a God of boundless Might,
In Wisdom, Justice, Goodness, Infinite.
The Left Bank
© David Lehman
Don't walk away, Renee,
I'm just getting warmed up
your body is like a river
and I'm going to swim across
To Psyche
© David Lehman
The longer I stare the lovelier
you look in my eyes (so made such
mirrors and spies) and I'm not done
yet as I enumerate the virtues
Tenth Commandment
© David Lehman
The woman said yes she would go to Australia with him
Unless he heard wrong and she said Argentina
Where they could learn the tango and pursue the widows
Of Nazi war criminals unrepentant to the end.
To Mrs. Norton
© Frances Anne Kemble
I never shall forget thee'tis a word
Thou oft nust hear, for surely there be none
The Final Reckoning
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Twas a wild and stormy sunset, changing tints of lurid red
Flooded mountain top and valley and the low clouds overhead;
And the rays streamed through the windows of a building stately, high,
Whose wealthy, high-born master had lain him down to die.
Twelfth Night
© David Lehman
His first infidelity was a mistake, but not as big
As her false pregnancy. Later, the boy found outHe was born three months earlier than the date
On his birth certificate, which had turned into
A marriage license in his hands. Had he been trapped
To William Holden
© David Lehman
(July 15) We know who
the guards are
in those POW
movies with brutal
To The Author Of Glare
© David Lehman
There comes a time when the story turns into twenty
different stories and soon after that he academy of shadows
retreats to the cave of a solitary boy in a thriving
Translation Of The Epitaph On Virgil And Tibullus By Domitius Marsus
© George Gordon Byron
He who sublime in epic numbers roll'd,
And he who struck the softer lyre of love,
By Death's unequal hand alike controll'd,
Fit comrades in Elysian regions move!
The Accompanist by Dick Allen: American Life in Poetry #188 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
I really like this poem by Dick Allen, partially for the way he so easily draws us in, with his easygoing, conversational style, but also for noticing what he has noticed, the overlooked accompanist there on the stage, in the shadow of the singer.
The Accompanist
The Interrogation
© Tadeusz Borowski
for Witek Piatkowski
They beat him all day, and the next. Nothing doing.
